Hello? Trickster!
by Judanim
Summary: Tricksters are notorious loophole-abusers. This shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone, but this particular one does, and in the worst way. Set between 9x10 and 9x11.


Author's Note: This story stemmed from the idea that Gabriel took Loki as his vessel, explaining how he lived with the pagan gods for so long without being noticed and how he has the powers of both god and archangel. And of course Growley is my headcanon (since canon can't prove otherwise), soo... here we are. And this is the first Growley story I've written not from Crowley's (or even Gabriel's) point-of-view. Sorry in advance.

**Hello? Trickster!**  
by Judanim

Abaddon's goons had said the pagan would meet her in a dirty back alley in Brooklyn, though given the source and the messengers, who knew how reliable that was? Still Abaddon went; she could handle whatever the god could throw at her.

The alley stunk of rotting fish and old pasta, courtesy of the Italian restaurant at the end of the block. Cats and rats scattered as she entered, a trash can falling over in their wake.

"Come out, come out wherever you are," Abaddon said to the empty alley. "I know you're here."

"Hello, darling," said a gravelly, English-accented voice behind her. "Was wondering if you'd fall for my little trick. Looks like you're not even as bright as _I_ gave you credit for."

She whirled around to see a little man in a long black coat staring smugly up at her. Too smug, too much swagger, not quite her rival for the throne of Hell. "Like I'm supposed to believe you'd drag me all the way out to this gutter just to prove a point, Crowley. Where's the trickster?"

"Crowley" smirked. "No trickster, just me, though there was a time the terms weren't mutually exclusive."

One of Abaddon's hands rested on the pocket dimension where she had a stake dipped in blood at the ready. "So I've heard. Apparently you've quite the history. Shame you weren't smart enough to keep it hidden."

"Don't believe everything you hear."

In the split-second it took Crowley to look smug, Abaddon struck. She drove the point of the stake into the creature's midsection, earning her widened eyes and a strangled gasp. A moment later the body vanished into thin air.

Someone started clapping, but Abaddon didn't give them the satisfaction of turning around. "Well done," a voice said, the applause dying. "Most demons would've fallen for that hook, line, and sinker. But you aren't most demons, are you?"

A man wearing an olive green army jacket appeared in front of her. "You must be Loki," Abaddon said. "Nice trick."

The god shrugged. "I do what I can. You, however, you're a mover and a shaker. Word is you're out to take the throne of Hell. I don't see why you'd want it, but I can respect the ambition."

Abaddon smirked. "So you're saying you don't care who wins the title?"

"Not really. Who runs the pit or the cloud kingdom has never really concerned me," Loki said. His golden eyes flashed, and for an instant he appeared to be far more than a pagan god. "Though I wouldn't mind seeing that rat Crowley put into his place."

"Then help me do it. I'll give you a front-row seat to watch the world burn," Abaddon said.

Loki tapped his chin. "Help you spread chaos and destruction while taking out Crowley?" He grinned. "Count me in."

* * *

Castiel arrived in the bunker to see Sam with his nose buried in a book. He smiled a little and said, "Hello, Sam."

Sam looked up, setting down the book. "Hey, Cas. Any word on Gadreel or Metatron?"

"No, unfortunately. They're both hiding their whereabouts well." Castiel sat down across from Sam. He leaned over just enough to get a glimpse at what the hunter was reading. "Why are you researching tricksters?"

"Because I think one showed up in Pekin, Illinois, and I was looking for a distraction." Sam slid a newspaper over to Castiel. "Three karmic deaths in one small town in a month? I'd call that a trickster."

The angel frowned. "A trickster looking to set a trap. Are you sure about this, Sam? You aren't fully healed yet."

Sam ran a hand through his hair. "You sound like Dean. Look, I'm going to start climbing the walls if I don't do something, Cas. And besides, with everything the way it is, do you really want that kind of unknown out there?"

"I suppose not." Castiel sighed. "At least let me go with you. Tricksters are dangerous, even when they're not archangels in hiding."

"You say that like you weren't already invited," Sam said. He got to his feet and made his way to the door. "Let's go."

* * *

A day later, Castiel and Sam were walking out of the Pekin Coroner's Office, the latter adjusting his suit jacket to hide the freshly-dipped stake occupying the inside pocket.

"Well that was weird," Sam said. "Whoever this trickster is, he seems like he's got a point to prove. Gabriel's victims were never that mutilated."

Castiel was quiet until they reached the car. "There might be a reason for that. The bodies reeked of sulfur, even though the coroner tried hard to mask it with his chemicals."

Sam paused with one hand on the ignition. "Demon vessels? Why would a trickster go around killing demons?"

"He must've picked a side. Which leaves the question of who and why." Castiel looked at Sam, his eyes soft. "We should call Crowley. He would be able to provide us with answers."

The hunter frowned but nodded all the same. "Wonder what he'll make us pay for that information."

Back at their motel room, Castiel gathered up the ingredients for the summoning spell. Sam didn't bother painting a devil's trap, though he did have Crowley's old shackles in the trunk of Cas' Continental were things to get out of hand.

Crowley didn't look surprised when he appeared in the motel room. He gave a half-smile void of his usual sarcasm. "Miss me already, moose?"

Castiel stood up straighter. "No one misses anyone. We need your help, Crowley."

"Always so courteous, Cas." Crowley looked around the room, an eyebrow raised. "No devil's trap. You must be desperate. Or stupidly trusting. Can never tell with you lot."

Sam sighed, lips curling down at the edges and eyebrows angled just enough to form the bitch-face that he was infamous for. "Look, Crowley, someone's going around killing demons, and we need to know whose side they're on."

The King of Hell quirked an eyebrow. "Someone?"

Hunter and angel exchanged a glance, and after a moment Castiel said, "A trickster."

Crowley took a physical step back. "What? How? The only ones willing to meddle in Hell's affairs are dead. Mercury was slaughtered by Lucifer, and Loki…" He swallowed, sputtering for breath he didn't need, a flash of human vulnerability in his dark eyes. "We're in Illinois, aren't we?"

Sam started to reach one hand out to the demon but caught himself in time. Instead he answered, "Pekin, yeah," while pulling himself upright.

"I had a few men stationed here. Abaddon must've found them." Crowley rubbed his face with one hand and then shook his head. "We need to find this trickster and end him."

It was Castiel's turn to look surprised. "You don't want to coerce him to your side?"

"Of course not. Disloyal bastards," was all Crowley said before popping out of the room.

Cas shook his head, confusion still etched into his features. "I'll go look for the trickster's hideout. You stay here and rest."

Sam nodded, going for his laptop as soon as Castiel took flight. "Rest, my ass."

* * *

In typical monster fashion, the trickster had chosen an abandoned warehouse as the base of his operations. Sam and Castiel went through the front, while Crowley covered the back entrance.

As they were slinking through the warehouse's hallways, Sam tried making conversation. "I'm surprised you'd suggest calling Crowley, Cas. How do you know we can trust him?"

"We don't," Castiel said with a shrug. "But you don't hate him, and I don't think he'll betray us just yet. Right now he needs us as much as we need him."

Sam smiled a little. "Who'd have thought we'd see the day when the King of Hell was the good guy?"

"Good being relative in this case," Castiel said, always too literal.

"Very relative," said a voice from behind them.

Castiel and Sam looked at each other, recognition mirrored in wide eyes. As one they turned to face the owner of the voice.

"Gabriel?" Sam asked, choking on the name.

"No," Castiel said. "His vessel, Loki."

The trickster smirked. "Right-o, feathers. Funny thing about being immortal. I've only got one weakness, and it ain't an archangel blade. Can't say the same for poor Gabe, though."

Sam reached into his jacket and went to pull out the stake, but Castiel put out a hand to stop him. "Why are you helping Abaddon?" the angel asked. "Why do you care who rules Hell?"

Loki opened his mouth to respond, but he was thrown down the hallway and into the nearest room before he got the chance. Sam and Castiel had to jump aside, pressing themselves against opposite walls, to avoid getting hit. Crowley appeared where Loki had been standing.

"I told you," the demon said, cracking his neck. "Disloyal bastards."

They followed Crowley into the room, where Loki was currently sprawled out in the middle of the floor and gasping for air. The trickster looked up when they entered, but Crowley put out his hand, forcing Loki flat on his back.

A sharp laugh bubbled out of Loki's throat. "After all we've been through together, this is what I get? Oh Crowles, you wound me."

With a growl, Crowley flicked Loki into a wall and kept the god pressed there. "You pagan git. I don't know how you survived, and I really don't care. I just want to know why the hell you're here, and Gabriel isn't. After all he did for you and yours, you owe him that."

"So naïve," Loki said, laughing around his words. "Gabe knew what he was doing when he went off and played hero. I told him I wouldn't help if something befell him, but the dumbass went anyway."

Sam gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, his hands itching to grab up the stake. "Gabriel was trying to do the right thing, to save people instead of hurting them. To save his friends. You know, the other gods? That's more than you've ever done."

The trickster grinned, his golden eyes darkening with malice. "You think he sacrificed himself for _them_? Please. He might have been an archangel, but Gabriel wasn't that noble." He looked back to Crowley. "In fact, he was only following your example, Mr. 'Let's-Give-the-Colt-to-the-Winchesters'."

Crowley's hand curled into a fist, and suddenly Loki was coughing up blood and sliding to the floor. "Listen here, you insufferable arse. Stop helping Abaddon. Just disappear. And if I catch wind of you doing _anything_, I'll hunt you down again. I know all your hideouts and all your tricks, Loki. You can't outrun me, understand?"

Loki glared but nodded once. A moment later Crowley was gone, leaving the trickster to spit in his general direction while he hauled himself up. "Always was a controlling bastard," Loki muttered before snapping himself out as well.

The hunter stared at the empty room, body still tense with adrenaline. "Well that was… I have no idea what that was."

"I think I do." Castiel squinted and tilted his head, looking at nothing in particular. "And I suddenly understand why Crowley wanted Purgatory. At least his logic turned out to be wrong; otherwise I might feel guilty about depriving him of it."

"Are you saying—" Sam cut himself off with a raised hand. "Never mind, I don't want to know."

There was a crash and a yell from somewhere outside. Castiel zapped out to investigate, while Sam made a beeline for the exit.

It turned out to be Crowley throwing things around in a nearby alley. By the time Sam arrived, Castiel was standing by with his arms folded across his chest and watching the demon toss about trash cans and scrap equipment with his powers.

"Crowley," Castiel said at last, taking a step forward.

The King of Hell whirled to face the angel, panting and looking at Castiel with wild eyes. "Don't," he said, pointing an accusatory finger at Cas. "Don't you fucking dare. I don't need your pity party, not when this you and your little Team Free Will's fault."

Castiel frowned. "Gabriel made his own choices, Crowley. We had nothing to do with it."

"Of course not. My mistake." Crowley rolled his eyes and stared down both Sam and Castiel. "Because you lot don't get people killed, either directly or through your damned pontificating. Oh no. And you're certainly not responsible for the death or imprisonment of _all four archangels of Heaven_!"

Even though Castiel backed away, any sane being would at the tone in Crowley's voice, still he pleaded, "I realize what Gabriel's loss meant to you, but don't—"

Sam put a hand Castiel's shoulder. "It's okay, Cas. He's right."

Crowley straightened, lips parted and eyes widened in surprise.

"That's one thing you've always been right about," Sam continued. "And I'm sorry about… all this. It's the Trials, isn't it? 'Cause I know before you wouldn't have let Loki walk out of there alive."

For several minutes Crowley said nothing, did nothing. His face went slack, and finally he shook his head. "No. For once, you're not to blame for this," he said, gesturing to himself.

The demon closed his eyes, and Sam could've sworn he heard the words, "Damn it, Gabriel," leave Crowley's mouth before he disappeared. Given the look of pity on Castiel's face, he wasn't the only one.


End file.
